The screeching of the subway wheels grinding against the rail cut off Peter's sentence, causing him to groan in annoyance as he pouted after me. The breeze from the train pulling into the station brought a waft of smells reeking of hot burning metal onto the platform.
I glanced up at the timetable, making sure we were boarding the right train, before pushing my way onto the crowded subway car. I sighed, shaking my head slightly when I realized there weren't any open seats. There goes my plan of reading on the way to Manhattan.
"Em," Peter huffed as he bumped into my arm while trying to squeeze his way in front of me. "When I said you should get a lawyer to look over those papers, I was kidding. I didn't think you'd actually do it."
"You don't have to come with me, Peter," I grumbled, trying my best to hide the eyeroll that was threatening to be sent in his direction.
"And leave you on your own to meet up with some sketchy lawyers?" he scoffed, pulling his eyebrows together. "I don't think so."
"For the thousandth time," I exhaled, not stopping my eyes from rolling into the back of my head, "Foggy is not sketchy. He's almost a barred lawyer. And he's nice."
"He isn't even a real lawyer?" Peter exclaimed, his eyes growing wide.
I gripped the handrail next to the door, shifting slightly as the train pulled out of the station. My eyes averted Peter's baffled stare as I shrugged and stared at the ground.
"Wow, okay, okay," Peter mumbled, nodding his head a few times. "Well, what about his friend? Is he at least legit?"
I tried my best to hide my wince as I looked up to meet Peter's scornful glare.
"Seriously, Em?" Peter scolded, exhaling an amused breath from his mouth.
"What do you want me to say?" I defended, my voice growing whinier with each word.
"You could at least lie," Peter groaned, rolling his eyes as he leaned closer to where I was standing.
"Well, unlike you," I stated, punching his arm, "I don't lie to my best friend."
"Ouch. Hey, what was that for?" he complained while rubbing his bicep. "Since when do I lie to you?" He looked down at me, his brown eyes growing wide as he waited for my response.
"You lie all the time," I mumbled, shaking my head as I leaned against the wall of the car. I picked at the remains of a sticker that was stuck to the handrail.
"Name one time that I've lied," Peter demanded, placing his hands on his hips as he shifted into a defensive stance.
Every time you pretend I don't know who you really are. I lifted an eyebrow as I glanced up at him. "What about the other night when you said you were working on a science project?" I questioned, tilting my head.
Peter scoffed, shaking his head. "I was working on a project," he insisted, avoiding making eye contact.
"For eight hours?" I exclaimed, scrunching my face.
"Maybe," Peter groaned. The train abruptly slowed, causing him to lose his balance. His body flung forward, crashing into mine. His weight pressed against me caused my head to bump into the window, resulting in a large knot and followed by a frantic, apologetic Peter. "Shit, shit, shit, sorry. You okay?"
"I thought your coordination improved," I mumbled under my breath as I lifted my hand to rub the back of my head. "I'll be fine."
"Let me see," Peter insisted as he tried to get me to turn around so he could examine my head.
"I said I'm fine, Pete," I groaned, pushing his hand away from my head. "Besides, I don't think you could maneuver around me if you tried. We're packed in here pretty tight today."
"Well, let me look at it once we get off then," he sighed, shaking his head. His eyes snapped up to the window behind me, growing wide as they focused on something as we pulled into the next station. "Did you see that?" he gasped as his head turned to continue staring at whatever he had seen.
"No?" I exhaled, shrugging my shoulders as I tried to catch a glimpse of whatever had caught Peter's attention.
"Someone spray-painted a spider on the wall back there," he rejoiced, trying his best to contain his excitement. "How, uh, how do you think they did that? That's a pretty hard spot to reach. You'd have to be really careful to get back there in a busy station like this."
"Yeah," I snorted, shaking my head as I made my way to exit the car. "If they weren't careful, they'd get squashed like a bug," I joked as I made a motion with my hands.
"That's not funny," Peter cringed as he walked past me and made his way onto the platform.
"Well, I thought it was pretty funny," I mumbled as I followed after him. "Will you slow down?" I called ahead to where his long legs were taking him. "You don't even know where you're going."
"Yes, I do," he yelled over his shoulder as he gestured to the exit sign hanging above the stairs we were heading toward. "Out."
"Okay," I grumbled as I pushed past the crowd of tourists gathered at the bottom of the stairs, staring at a map as they perfectly blocked my path. "Excuse me," I mumbled while trying my best not to elbow the woman squinting at the platform sign, looking lost.
I took the stairs two at a time to try and catch up with Peter.
He was already at the top of the stairs, standing on the sidewalk, turning his head from side to side as he searched the crowd for the people we were meeting. "So what do these lawyer friends of yours look like?" he asked as his eyes continued to scan the people around us.
"No, no. I'm fine. Don't worry about me," I gasped while swatting at Peter as I bent over, winded from my sprint up the stairs.
"You're so dramatic," he laughed, rolling his eyes as he tried to hide his smile.
"And you're stubborn," I griped, crossing my arms over my chest. "Go ahead, lead the way. Since you know where we're meeting them," I teased, gesturing with my arms in front of me.
"Ha. Ha," Peter mocked, pushing my arm down. His hand lingered on my coat for a few seconds longer than it should have. "You're hilarious. Seriously. What do these guys look like?"
"Um," I hummed as I started walking in what I thought was the right direction. "One is blonde and has shoulder-length hair. And the other is, uh, well I don't know what he looks like. But he's blind."
"So a blonde and a blind guy," Peter nodded sarcastically. "Should be easy enough to find."
I turned around and swatted at him playfully.
"What?" he laughed, jumping out of the way and almost running into a woman walking her dog. "Sorry, sorry," he mumbled as she scowled at him. "Em, you gave me the most basic description of these guys and expect me to help you find them," he sighed while shaking his head. "You aren't giving me much to work with here."
"I don't expect you to find them," I stated, trying to contain my smile.
Peter lifted an eyebrow as he stared down at me. "And why's that?" he asked, tilting his head as he inched closer to my face.
"Because they're right over there," I beamed, pointing to two guys ordering hotdogs from a street cart a block away. I couldn't help but laugh as I watched Foggy struggle with the mustard bottle.
He shook it a few times before squeezing a giant blob of mustard onto his hotdog. He cursed under his breath before sighing and accepting the mishap. He held out the yellow bottle, waiting for his friend to take it from him. After a few seconds, he realized that his friend couldn't see what he was doing, and embarrassingly lowered the bottle to the cart.
"That's your lawyer?" Peter sneered, furrowing his eyebrows as he watched Foggy lift his hotdog to his mouth and take an enormous bite.
"Foggy!" I yelled as I jogged over to where he was standing.
"Oh, shit. Em," Foggy mumbled through a mouth full of food as he attempted to swallow. He held out his hand for me to shake but quickly retracted the gesture when he realized his fingers were covered in sauce. "Sorry, uh," he stammered as he turned around, reaching for a napkin. He quickly cleaned his fingers before running the napkin over the corner of his mouth to wipe it clean. "Hey," he smiled.
"Hi," I exhaled as I stopped in front of where he stood. "Thanks for agreeing to meet here."
"Not a problem!" Foggy exclaimed, shrugging his shoulders. He nodded over his shoulder at the tall mirrored building behind him on the other side of the street. "We usually get, what would you say, Matt," he asked, glancing at his friend, "About a five-minute lunch break every day?"
"Two, if we're lucky," the man named Matt smirked.
Foggy lifted his arm to examine his watch and shook his head. "Well, we don't have to be back for another ten minutes. Marci should be able to stall if we run a few minutes behind," he stated, squinting as he turned around to stare at the building again.
"Better not let that happen," Matt grumbled. "She'll never let you live that down. That would make your next date night very interesting."
"Emerson," Foggy grimaced as his lips formed a hard line. "This is Matt," he explained as he gestured to the man wearing red-tinted sunglasses. "My very opinionated, very grumpy, partner and occasional, friend."
"Harsh," Matt smiled, furrowing his eyebrows. "Nice to meet you, Emerson," he stated while sticking out his hand for me to shake.
"Likewise," I said shyly as I took hold of his gloved hand and shook firmly.
Matt's head tilted slightly as if he was listening to something. A confused expression crossed his face as his attention shifted to somewhere behind me.
I turned and looked over my shoulder, concerned for a few seconds until I realized Peter was standing obnoxiously close to me. "Oh, um," I sighed, shaking my head as I pointed behind me. "Foggy, Matt. This is Peter. My, um, b-"
"Boyfriend," Matt inferred, nodding his head. "Nice to meet you," he grinned as he held out his hand again.
"Best friend," I correctly slowly, pulling my eyebrows together as I stared at Foggy's friend quizzically.
"Uh, hey," Peter breathed as he extended his arm to shake Matt's hand.
"Sorry," Matt mumbled while trying to hide the smile growing on his face. "I just assumed you two were together."
"You can't go around assuming things like that, Matt," Foggy scolded, shaking his head. He held out his hand, latching onto Peter's as he shook his hand more aggressively than he should have. "Foggy Nelson. A pleasure to meet you, Peter."
"Yeah, yeah," Peter grumbled as he pulled his hand away and eyed Foggy's excited state skeptically, "You too, man." Peter quickly shoved his hands into his coat pockets and looked away, trying to find something to distract himself from the awkward exchange.
"So," I sang loudly as I forced a smile on my face. "Did you two look over the papers I gave you?"
"You could say that," Foggy nodded as he reached around to grab something out of his messenger bag. He paused, realizing his hotdog was still in his hand, "Here, Matt. Hold this," he instructed as he placed his food in Matt's hand.
"You put too much mustard on this Foggy," Matt sniffed before holding out the hotdog far away from his face.
"How could you possibly know that?" Foggy grumbled as he searched through his bag. "There's no way you can see the mountain of mustard."
"I'm blind, not anosmic," Matt winced, shaking his head. "I may not be able to see, but my nose works perfectly fine."
"A little too well, if you ask me," Foggy mumbled as he pulled out the stack of papers from his bag, swiped the hotdog from Matt's hand, and turned to face me.
"I didn't ask you," Matt stated, matter-of-factly as he lifted an eyebrow.
With an annoyed expression, Foggy turned around to glare at Matt. "I know you can't see it, but I want you to know that I am giving you quite the look right now, Matthew," Foggy spat, shaking his head.
"I'm sure it's very intimidating," Matt chuckled, the corners of his mouth turning up.
"These are the guys you trust to give you legal advice?" Peter groaned in my ear, quiet enough for only me to hear.
"Shut up," I hissed while elbowing him in the stomach.
"It is intimidating," Foggy whined. "I'll have you know that-"
"The papers, Foggy," Matt reminded, sounding amused by his friend's disheveled state.
"Right, right," Foggy mumbled as he turned to face me again. He cleared his throat and adjusted his tie. "We had a chance to look these over," Foggy stated, nodding his head a few times. "It's pretty straightforward but complex."
"How complex?" I asked, biting on my lip to try and ease my nerves.
"Well, for starters, you have to be in person for the interview, it can't be done over the phone," Foggy explained. "And seeing as how Dr. Connors is incapable of meeting you for coffee at your favorite local cafe, you'll have to go to him."
"Okay, that doesn't sound too bad," I sighed, feeling a sense of relief.
"There's more," Matt insisted, his jaw hardening.
Foggy glanced over his shoulder, giving Matt an annoyed look. "Yes, there's more. I was getting there," he grumbled, "but nothing to worry about," he smiled as he faced me, trying to give me a reassuring look. "You aren't allowed to have anyone in the room with you when you interview him. You can't record the interview. And you can't print anything that paints Connors in a bad light or insinuates he's guilty. You have to remain neutral."
I took a moment to let the regulations around the interview sink in. "Okay," I sighed, nodding my head. "That's not too bad."
"Em, you can't interview him alone," Peter objected, shaking his head frantically. "He isn't safe. You should have someone with you while interviewing him."
"I agree with the best friend," Matt agreed, nodding in Peter's direction.
"I don't think Anne will budge on the matter," Foggy sighed, shaking his head. "I'm not saying it would be impossible-" his watch started beeping, causing him to jump, "-shit. The meeting. Walk with us?" he asked with pleading eyes as he nervously glanced over his shoulder.
I nodded my head, listening as Foggy continued to talk as Peter and I walked with him and Matt toward the Landman & Zack building.
"It would take a while for us to type something up and send it over to Anne," Foggy explained, shrugging his shoulders. "She would then have to agree to our terms. If she didn't, she would send her own regulations back, possibly adding in more if we piss her off."
"And then the two of you keep going back and forth and I never get to interview Connors," I grumbled, shaking my head. "No thanks, I'll agree to her terms."
"Now wait a minute," Matt disagreed.
"Em," Peter moaned, rolling his head back. "You can't go in there alone."
"He's a resident at a mental hospital, Peter," I reminded, my eyes growing wide. "How much of a threat can he still be?"
"He was a giant lizard," Foggy mumbled, pressing his lips together.
"Key word in that sentence, was, not is," I exhaled, rolling my eyes. "He's at the Beloit Asylum. That place is more secure than the airport."
"I don't care where he's at," Peter growled, shaking his head. "I'm going with you."
"You're ridiculous," I exclaimed, throwing my hands in the air. "Peter, he's not a threat anymore!"
"It's not safe," Peter snarled as he glared at me.
"Again, I concur," Matt sighed, raising his eyebrows.
"Will you shut up?" Foggy laughed, shaking his head. "You sound ridiculous. These two," Foggy mumbled, rolling his eyes playfully as he smiled at me. "Tell ya what, Em. How about I reach out to Anne and let her know that you agree to her terms, if ," he emphasized, holding his finger in the air as he glanced at Peter and Matt, who were about to protest, "she allows your lawyers to accompany you and observe the conversation from outside the room, with her present, of course."
"Fine," I sighed, nodding my head as I crossed my arms over my chest.
Foggy lifted an eyebrow, staring at Peter.
"Fine," Peter agreed as he crossed his arms and shrugged. He rolled his eyes and glanced down the alley we were passing. His eyes grew wide and he stopped walking.
"Great," Foggy nodded as he continued walking ahead of us, not noticing that Matt and I had also stopped with Peter. "I'll give her a call after this meeting and maybe we can get something on the books for later today- what the hell are you three looking at?" he exhaled when he noticed we weren't next to him.
"Technically, I'm not staring at anything," Matt shrugged as a playful smirk tugged at the corners of his mouth. "I just stopped because they did."
I exhaled an amused breath out of my nose and shook my head. "I think we stopped because of that," I stated, lifting my hand to point at the giant spray-painted symbol on the alley wall.
Foggy sighed loudly and walked to where the three of us were standing. "You're kidding. Don't tell me you're obsessed with the Spider-Guy, too," he scoffed, shaking his head.
"Spider-Man," Peter corrected, not taking his eyes off the masked hero's logo.
"Which one of you is obsessed with him?" I questioned, tilting my head as I stared at Foggy and Matt. My gut told me it was Foggy, but I couldn't help but want to tease Matt. "Is it you?" I asked, lightly touching Matt's arm to let him know I was talking about him.
"I don't make a habit of swooning over men running around the city in tights," Matt teased, raising his eyebrow as he tilted his head in my direction.
"I do not swoon," Foggy defended, shaking his head aggressively at Matt.
"You don't like him?" I asked Matt, quickly glancing in Peter's direction, worried about how he might react to Matt's answer.
"I didn't say that," Matt corrected as he fumbled with his red-tinted glasses. He shifted his stance so his body was facing Peter. "I don't think I could pull off the spandex," he smiled, shaking his head. "I think what he's doing is admirable," Matt stated, sounding like he was far away in thought. "Stupid," he added, chuckling to himself, "but admirable."
Peter tried his best to hide the smirk forming on his lips and ducked his head as he lifted his hand to scratch the back of his neck. "Yeah," he laughed, "I, uh, I can agree with you on that one."
"So Matt, you're telling me that if you somehow woke up with the ability to shoot webs from your hands, you wouldn't go swinging around the city beating up criminals?" Foggy ridiculed, shaking his head.
"Again, Foggy," Matt sighed, smiling at Foggy, "you're putting words in my mouth."
"I would," Foggy stated, ignoring Matt. "I'd never shut up about it. I'd tell everyone I knew that I was part spider. Totally freak them out," he laughed as he motioned with his hand, pretending to shoot a web at me.
"Easy there, Spider-Boy," I snorted, shaking my head as I lowered Foggy's hand from my face. "You'll take someone's eye out if you aren't careful."
"Here that, Matt? I'm coming for ya!" Foggy giggled as he continued to shoot pretend webs at his friend.
"You still want to take the lead on this meeting?" Matt asked, sounding unphased by Foggy's child-like energy.
"Yeah," Foggy exhaled, sounding out of breath as he nodded his head.
"Then I suggest you put those away and fix your tie," Matt smiled, shaking his head.
Foggy scowled as he stood up and straightened his tie. He cleared his throat and rolled his shoulders. "Emerson. Peter," he stated while bowing slightly in our direction, "It's been a pleasure. We'll be in touch soon," he nodded before turning around and walking toward the law office. "Come along, Matthew," he called over his shoulder. "Let's kick some legal ass!"
"Nice meeting you both," Matt smiled sweetly before shaking his head and following Foggy to their meeting.
"Em," Peter said as he stood next to me with his arms crossed. "I don't feel any better about this after meeting them."
"You worry too much," I teased, rolling my eyes as I turned to stare at the Spider-Man symbol again. "Pretty cool, huh?" I asked, nodding down the alley as I nudged his arm.
"What?" Peter questioned as he turned his attention to where I was looking. "Oh," he sighed, smiling. "Yeah."
"Come on," I sang as I skipped ahead a few steps. "Let's go look for more."
~ ~ ~
A few hours later, I received a phone call from a very distressed Foggy. He explained the meeting had not gone as planned and he now had several hours of work ahead of him. He told me he was able to talk to Anne and she agreed to our terms that I could have a lawyer present outside of the room with her, while I spoke with Dr. Connors.
Foggy stayed true to his word and scheduled the meeting for this afternoon. With him tied up at the office, he wouldn't be able to attend. Matt offered to go in his place and was now walking with me to the room where I would be meeting with Dr. Connors.
I felt nervous as I walked down the dimly lit hallway, trying my best to remind myself that this interview was crucial. This could be the story that defines my career.
Matt could tell I was nervous and kept offering encouraging words as we made our way through the asylum. He would squeeze my arm now and then to reassure me. It was as though he could sense when my nerves were getting the best of me.
We were following a nurse who was taking us to a room with mirrored windows so our lawyers could observe the interview without being too much of a distraction. I was helping guide Matt down the poorly lit hallway, not wanting him to accidentally trip on anything and hurt himself.
There was a group of men standing at the end of the hallway, speaking in hushed tones. One of the men was wearing a fedora that covered his face. The shadows cast over his features made it difficult to identify him, but I couldn't help but feel like I recognized him from somewhere. He was speaking with a large, bald man, who looked very upset by something the man in the hat was saying. As we approached the group, the man in the hat exhaled loudly, shaking his head, and turned to face us.
"Mr. Osborn?" I gasped, sounding confused. I narrowed my eyes to try and get a better view of him in the dim light. I lowered Matt's hand from my arm and took a few steps forward to get a better look.
The group of men surrounding him quickly stepped in front of him, blocking my path. Their hands instinctively went to their belts, indicating they were armed and prepared for a security threat. The large man in the back, straightened so he was standing tall. He towered over the other men and didn't look like he needed protection, yet he took a few steps backward into the shadowed hallway, shielding his face from view.
I cautiously took another step forward as I held my hands up defensively. I could now see the man in the hat better. I was correct, it was Norman Osborn.
I tilted my head as I examined his skin, trying not to ogle at the scarring scales covering the side of his face. The last time I had seen him, the disease hadn't spread this badly.
"Mr. Osborn, it's Emerson Jay," I explained, placing my hand on my chest. "I was, uh, a friend of Harry's? When he lived here," I added, forgetting temporarily that Harry didn't live in New York anymore.
Mr. Osborn's shoulders sunk as he turned to face me. "Yes, yes. Of course," his raspy voice stated kindly. He glanced at the armed men still blocking my path to him. He stepped forward, patting one of them on the shoulder. "No need for this, gentlemen. You can let her through," he insisted, nodding his head. "Well, don't just stand there," he gestured toward me, "Let me see you."
I hesitantly took a step forward into the small amount of light that was entering the hallway from one of the barred windows on the wall.
Mr. Osborn sighed as he stared at me. "Emerson Jay," he whispered sadly. "Has it really been that long?"
"About eight years, sir," I nodded, a painful smile spreading across my face.
"My, my," he breathed, sounding like he was struggling to breathe. "How the time flies."
I continued to smile awkwardly at him for a few moments, unsure what to say. I lowered my gaze from his face to the ground, not wanting to make him feel uncomfortable.
"Well," he said, pausing to clear his throat as he glanced nervously over his shoulder. "What are you doing here? Surely you don't make a habit of coming to places like this?"
"Uh, no, sir," I laughed quietly. "I'm just here for work."
"Work?" he questioned, tilting his head slightly as he examined where I stood.
"I'm a reporter for The Daily Bugle," I explained, chewing on my bottom lip. "Well, I'm interning for The Bugle."
"Ah, yes," Mr. Osborn nodded. "Now that you mention it, I have seen some of your recently published works," he smiled softly. "You're very talented, Miss Jay."
"Um, t-thank you, Mr. Obsorn," I said nervously, unsure how to take the compliment from one of the most successful men in New York.
"So, what brings you here today?" he asked, glancing nervously behind him at the room where the large, bald man had disappeared. "Or whom, I should ask," he corrected as he chuckled to himself.
"Just following up on a story with one of the residents," I stated, shrugging my shoulders.
"Hmm," Mr. Osborn hummed, sounding unamused by my answer.
A cold shiver ran down my spine and I felt the sudden urge to lie. "I'm just, you know, doing my journalistic duty to give someone a platform and listen to their story," I rambled quickly as I clasped my hands together behind my back.
"Is that so?" he questioned, narrowing his gaze.
"Mmhm," I nodded nervously.
Mr. Osborn paused for a moment, furrowing his eyebrows and looking as though he was about to press further. Something in the room behind him must have caught his attention because he turned his head to the side like he was listening to someone. "Well, best of luck, Miss Jay," he said before nodding and turning to enter the room.
"Thanks," I swallowed as I squinted to try and see who was inside the room. "It was, uh, good to see you again, sir."
"I'll be sure to let Harry know I saw you today," he waved, sounding bored as he turned to walk away.
"Oh, um, thanks," I stammered, shaking my head. "Give him my best."
Mr. Osborn nodded his head a few times and flashed a polite smile in my direction. His guards didn't move until he had disappeared into the room. They quickly followed behind him, slamming the door closed behind them.
"You're just full of surprises, aren't you," Matt taunted from behind me.
I spun around just in time to catch the smirk growing on his face.
"Connections to the Lizard-man, connections to one of the richest scientists in New York," Matt gawked sarcastically as he took my arm again. "I wonder who else you know."
"Shut up," I grumbled, trying to hide the smile tugging at my lips. "Let's just get this over with."
"If you insist," Matt nodded, waiting for me to take the lead to direct him toward the room where I'd be interviewing Connors. "Lead the way."